


all that burns reminds me of you (and oh how it hurts)

by assortedwords



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: M/M, alcohol tw, life-hating tw, pre-established relationship I guess, swearing tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 00:23:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1724318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assortedwords/pseuds/assortedwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saruhiko hates his life, and this thought is especially embedded in his mind when he’s sitting at his table holding a wine bottle by its neck like he’s strangling it—somebody strangle <i>me<i></i></i>, he thinks dryly—thinking about a particular red-haired boy he thought belonged to him and he to him at 3AM in the morning when he has work tomorrow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all that burns reminds me of you (and oh how it hurts)

Saruhiko hates his life, and this thought is especially embedded in his mind when he’s sitting at his table holding a wine bottle by its neck like he’s strangling it—somebody strangle _me_ , he thinks dryly—thinking about a particular red-haired boy he thought belonged to him and he to him at 3AM in the morning when he has work tomorrow.

He’s not really sure how it’s ended up like this—in this particular situation he means drinking from expensive fucking wine that doesn’t even get him wasted more effectively than the cheap cans of beer he used to drink with Misaki— _jesus_ , everything always leads back to Misaki, and he should really stop thinking his name because his heart feels even heavier and more uncomfortable, if that’s even goddamn possible—

He swings the green glass bottle by its neck and imagines it’s him, swallows mouthful after mouthful of fire that licks a dry path down his throat and thinks of Misaki, the red that surrounds him. Red’s a fucking shitty colour, he thinks, it’s supposed to make you stressed and angry, it does its job too fucking effectively and gives you an unhealthy dose of childhood nostalgia and pain along with it and Saruhiko thinks he might be able to explain it more eloquently if he hadn’t just downed another—fuck knows how many—gulps of whatever shitty-ass fancy alcohol this shit is. 

The thought, when it comes into his mind, isn’t stray; it lingers in his head, the only thing that’s clear, it hangs from the rafters of his mind to dangle in front of every other thought he has, the only consistent thing he’s sure of, it seems. His life is fucking pathetic, and he hates it.

This thought— _fact_ , he thinks flatly—is especially evident when it’s 3AM and he’s drinking liver-damaging poison to try and not to think about red-brown hair that splits ways and flies to the left and right on the sides of a certain boy’s head and how cute he looks when he’s flushed and indignant because of _Saruhiko_ , how he has to tilt his head up to meet Saruhiko’s lips— _had_ , he reminds himself, because he’s a fucking masochist, or he just deserves pain (mostly the latter, really), and his heart fucking gets even duller and Saruhiko decides this alcohol thing is a total fucking waste of time because he can _still_ see Misaki and the light in his eyes and him fidgeting from foot to foot when he surprises Saruhiko with a present and failing in proving that he isn’t that short by standing on his tiptoes but then he still doesn’t level with Saruhiko and god he wants to kiss him so bad right now he thinks he’d cry if he wasn’t so fucking numb.

He takes another swig of the alcohol, wonders why it still burns like acid on its way down to his liver (where it'll ruin him, just like everything else in his life that's ever burned), since everything else about him has no purpose in feeling anymore (apathy is his escape, always has been, it stands next to him in the place where Misaki should), and wishes for darkness. 

**Author's Note:**

> hi, k project fandom--I've hit your domain, and I am sorry.
> 
> this document was written in the peaceful delirium of a friday night that dragged on really long, and was originally named "fushimi hates his life", so there's that.


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